Crimson Sith
by Delilah Draken
Summary: WIP - It is well known that Anakin Skywalker constructed the droid C-3PO. What if Darth Vader created one as well? What if this new droid had more personality than was healthy for his maker?
1. Part One

DISCLAIMER:  
George Lucas is God and I am his humble servant. Everything belongs to Lucasfilm. I only borrow the characters. I don't get paid for this and I don't want to. It is just for fun.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
It is well known that Anakin Skywalker constructed the droid C-3PO. What if Darth Vader made one as well? What if this new droid had a bit too much personality to be healthy for his maker? This is the answer.

  


  


**Crimson Sith**

by

Delilah Draken 

  


  


The moment of birth is always a moment of excruciating fear and happiness. Fear that the new life will not accept its place in creation's order. Fear that the young one will leave shortly after the beginning of its existence. Fear of looming death. Happiness about the beginning of an new life. Happiness because it was a success to create. Happiness just because it begins.

Those two emotions could not be seen on the creator's face but they were there nonetheless. He was allowed to indulge in these feelings. After four years of painstakingly slow research and construction his masterpiece was finished. For a last time he polished the red armor before it was fastened in place. For a last time he checked the mechanics and programming. For a last time he saw his creation without guilt in his heart. He hesitated. Should he really do it? Should he condemn this pure new soul to the same life of darkness he was force to bear? Should he allow his creation to be manipulated and abused in the same way as he was? He could not answer those questions. He did not want to think about the consequences. It would hurt too much.

He turned the switch. The eyes behind the blood red mask glowed for a short moment. Servos began working. Breathing was simulated. Artificial intelligence became aware of its surroundings. Gone was the masterpiece of droid construction. Gone was the prototype of a new generation of battle druids. In its place was now the first member of the Imperial Guard.

He was Crimson Guard. It was his prime directive to serve the Empire. In his simple electronic mind there were only two things which counted - the Empire and his Master. And his Master was right before him. He remembered the black clad man from the past. This man created him, gave his body the form it had today, made him a warrior. This man gave him a mind. This man gave him life.

_This man was his Father._

  


  


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	2. Part Two

Yinchorr - 5 years later

  
It was a beautiful place. A planet full of flowers and life. A planet filled with love and hope. Once upon a time this cold and deadly place was a paradise. But not anymore. Cleaned from its natural inhabitants the planet of Yinchorr, this glorious "Flower of Darkness" became the grave of billions. Only to serve as a school. A school for the best of the best in the galaxy.

Those children were lost souls. They thought themselves heroes, idealistic warriors who came to this rock of darkness to become great warriors. What did they know about being a warrior? Nothing. They knew nothing but the lies they were taught at Imperial Academy. A glorious future of servitude to the Emperor was waiting for them. Glory and honor. If they survived the training.

Today the advanced class was getting a new member. The new one was someone special they were told. He raced through the ranks of training classes like others did with their speeder bikes in the desert. He was fast and he was good. It took him only three months to get from a beginner to the elite. Astonishing news. Right, and a bit disturbing. What was the secret of this mysterious new student everyone only knew as Coren? Why did he always hide his face? How was it possible that he fought that perfect after only three months of training? 

Kir Kanos and Burr Danid were two of the best in the advanced class. Only Carnor Jax got near their abilities. But today the new one, Coren took away their title of the Best of the Best. Coren fought with a lightness you find most of the time only in dancers. And it seemed he enjoyed it greatly.

The Emperor and his second-hand man Darth Vader were supposed to come. The greatest honor to the students. Maybe today was their day of judgement. Maybe today they would become real members of the Guard. Maybe today was the last day of their old life.

The Emperor wanted a performance. He wanted to see how the students would fare against an opponent like Lord Vader. Yesterday it would have been Burr Danid's duty to fight against the Dark Lord in the arena. Today it was the new one. They all knew it was his death sentence. Nobody could defeat Darth Vader. Nobody. Or so they thought...

Vader and Coren stood face to face in the arena. There was no motion. No moving, no fighting. Nothing. For the onlookers it seemed as if time stood still. Than sound. Huttese words out of the mouth of Coren. He talked to Vader. He didn't fight him. He just stood there, his weapon in his hand and talked.

Vader could call himself lucky. The Emperor didn't speak Huttese. Yes, he was lucky to live.

"It took you long enough to come here, Father." Coren's words were calm. A faint Tattoine accent in his syllabies. He was totally confident he could win this performance for his Master's master. He had to else he would never become a Guard.

"I had my reasons, C-OR1." A bit angry, but that was understandable. The Emperor was not amused about his masterpiece. First he wanted a perfect warrior for his new Crimson Guard, than he ordered his creation destroyed. Not much fun for the Dark Lord. He had to be the perfect servant for his master or said master would come to know he was deceived. Openly.

"Well, if it is so. We should begin, you know. He it getting suspicious." And the fight began.

It was fast. It was deadly. It was beauty all over again. It was like a choreographed play, a ballet of death. But neither the Dark Lord nor the student were winning. They were at a stalemate. For over an hour they fought and the end was far away. Than a move. Vader was down. A blade at his neck. Although he was wearing a mask you knew Coren was grinning. He bested the Best... and lost. Never stop to gloat. That is the first lesson you learn at Yinchorr. The only lesson Coren was not able to learn. It was his end. Surprised over the Dark Lord move he stepped back and fell off the platform. Darth Vader left the arena victorious again.

The students gaped openly. Never lasted a performance for the Emperor that long. Barely two hour. And if it were not for Coren's grave mistake the fight would probably still go on. But Coren lost. He was now only one of the many smashed bodies beneath the arena. He dead. A great loss for the warriors... and an example. An example to never underestimate you opponent. Or overestimate your own abilities. It was a lesson no student of Yinchorr would ever forget.

The Emperor said something about the lines "you have to work harder" and "if that was the best you can give, you have a long way before you". The students were silent. Not because they honoured their Emperor but because they mourned their comrade. He was maybe one of the freshlings but he was one of _them_. That was enough to feel a great loss. That was enough to fear the Emperor even more.

The old man they all called Master left the planet. The whole academy was happy to see him go and never come back. At least not for some months. The Dark Lord, Darth Vader the murderer of their newest - and probably greatest student - remained on Yinchorr. He just stood at the edge of the arena and waited. He waited for a long time. And the advanced class waited with him. They didn't trust him. They would die happily to serve him, but they didn't trust him. Nobody trusted Darth Vader. That is no human.

It took him some time to get back up. Climbing over three miles of knife sharp rock was not something he was constructed to do. But he did it anyway. It was his duty. His holy duty towards the Empire and his Master. The old man in the black robes didn't count. His Father would be proud if him. If he managed to get out of this hole and back to him, he would be very proud. Fathers always were proud of their sons. Always. His helmet was crushed. He had to leave it down there. He felt a bit sad about it. He really liked this armor. It suited his purposes much better than the red of the Guard. Not that he didn't like red. He just didn't feel like wearing the polished blood red costume the rest of his life.

Life?... What a silly thought. How can a machine be alive? He was nothing more than a tool his Master, his Father, made to fulfil the Emperors wishes. Nothing more. _Just a really advanced piece of trash._ But the thought wouldn't go away. While he climbed meter after painful meter up this infuriating stonewall, there was not much to do but thinking. Thinking about his future life. Thinking about his destiny. Thinking about his Father's motivations.

Yes, that was as good a point to contemplate a droid's suicidal tendencies than any other. Why did his Father what he did? What made him create a droid who would be a better human than the humans themselves? What made him give life to an artificial child? And why did he himself feel that way? Why was it right to think of Darth Vader not only as his creator and Master, but as his creator and beloved Father? Why? _Why do I feel like a real human?_ There was no answer. Probably never will be, but he had to look for it. He had to search for himself. Vader wouldn't give him what he needed.

He remembered the day he got skin. Real, human skin and muscles and intestines. C-OR1 - _my name is Coren_ - believed it the happiest day in his till that moment short life. His Father's master was not pleased with the gift of C-OR1. He was outright furious that Vader _dared_ to come in his sight with such an abomination. Was it not the Emperor's direct order to bring him a perfect warrior for his new troop of bodyguards? Was it not? The order of C-OR1's destruction was not a surprise. The old man always destroyed what he feared. And fear he did Lord Vader's newest toy. Too perfect the droid was. Too powerful. Too much like his maker.

The destruction never came. Instead of ending in a melting pit the droid was brought to a laboratory. Strange things happened in these white halls. Strange and disturbing for the droid's mind. His Father talked to the physicians for a long time. He talked about things C-OR1 couldn't understand at this point of time. He talked about giving live to an artificial body.

Of course, some genetic material would be needed to accomplish Lord Vader's wishes. His Father only took a knife and cut himself. He risked his own life to donate material for the doctors. He could have died if he suit hadn't sealed the damaged area off. Comprehension dawned on the droid. They wanted to clone his Father to create a warrior the Emperor approved of. Never did C-OR1 think about the possibility...

He awoke with a start. Pain was everywhere. All he felt was fire. It was beautiful. A droid's greatest dream fulfilled. He was able to feel. Feel your world like a mortal being. He looked down at his new _living_ body. Perfection. Or not?...

"Why is hair white? And why does he have green eyes?" His master's voice was loud in his new ears. It bordered on pain. Bad pain, not the beauty he felt on awaking.

"We thought it best to create some differences between the original and this one, My Lord." The doctor was frightened. He was right. Mistakes should not be allowed. Never.

With his new eyes he saw his Father watching his every move. "The new design will do. Make sure the nerve endings have the same connections as the original's. We don't want a warrior who can't control his powers, don't we?" For a moment it seemed as if his Father smiled behind his mask. Only for a short moment.

He arrived to top one hour after sundown. He was in pain. His fingers were bleeding and his head hurt. He probably had a concussion. His right eye was swollen shut. He lost a great amount of blood. Nothing he could die of. His brain and bones were constructed of a material not easy to destroy. But it hurt nonetheless.

Vader was waiting for him. His Father did probably never move from this position at all. Coren's heart jumped with joy. 

"Truly a Vader" With his cape swirling in the cold night wind of Yinchorr Darth Vader vanished into the darkness. Behind his mask he allowed himself to smile.

  


  


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	3. Part Three

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  
I'm terribly sorry it took so long to update this story. I had a serious case of writer's block and after that Real Life came between me and the computer. So please enjoy the new part. - Delilah

  


  


Yavin 4 - 7 years later

  


Pain.

He knew nothing but pain. Pain filled his mind. Pain absorbed his thoughts and killed his hope. Pain was everywhere. Pain was the one special emotion he allowed himself to feel in this moment of failure. And a failure it was in his eyes.

He survived. He, who didn't deserve to be called a Human, was the only one alive after the attack. He who killed thousands with a flick of his hand. He, who fought with an obsession bordering on madness, didn't want to be alive. If it could be called that way in his case.

He didn't know. He didn't dare to think about it. He didn't consider himself trustworthy enough to think about it. His Master might be able to steal the knowledge out of his mind. If he believed himself a Human, a being with a heart, and not the mighty warrior, the cold monster all expected him to be, his plans would be in jeopardy. His son would be in grave danger.

His son. He hadn't allowed himself to remember the boy for nearly 18 years. There was too much danger to endanger his child with his memories. But now he could nothing do but think about his boy, the child of his beautiful wife. Her last present for him. Here, surrounded by metal and circuits, flouting in the emptiness that is space, his mind broke the bonds of will and wandered back in time.

  


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  


He remembered her smile, how it warmed his day and made him believe in justice. His beautiful queen made him feel love, an emotion deemed impossible to feel for those called Fallen by the Jedi. And Fallen he was. Fallen to Darkness, succumbed to evil. They gave him many names but one hurt the most. _More machine than man._ His old teacher told that his wife. _He is no longer the man you knew. He is now nothing but a monster, a slave to the Emperor._

He remembered her tears. Nearly a year after the fatal accident which doomed him to this black prison the doctors call life support she came back to him. She came back to the monster, not the man. She returned to his side, not Anakin's. She loved him the same, as if he hadn't changed, as if he was the same as before and wasn't dependent on artificial organs.

He knew true bliss the following year. True happiness in the arms of a queen. His queen, always his, for all eternity. It should have been for ever, but it was for naught. It wasn't enough time. Not enough time to cherish his angel before she was stolen from his life, before she died at the hands of a friend.

The twins were two months old when it happened. Under the pretence of needing to talk to his wife, his old teacher was allowed into her rooms. He came to late to rescue his angel and daughter. He came too late to stop his old friend from murdering his loved ones. He came too late to stop Obi-Wan fulfilling the Jedi Council's order.

There wasn't enough left of his queen for a traditional burial. There wasn't enough left of her to say Good Bye. His daughter's body he found three days later. Mutilated and destroyed beyond recognition the only way to recognize the little girl as his child was genetic proof.

His son he was able to rescue from death. The Jedi, in a cowardly attempt to finish it cleanly, had thrown the little boy into the fireplace in his queen's bedroom. Little Luke would bear the marks of fire for the rest of his life, for the doctors were able to heal his face and arms but couldn't do a think about the baby's back and legs.

He gave his son to family on Tatooine in a hope to protect the little one from the Jedi. He gave the boy away to forget him.

That day the Purges began. That day Darth Vader was born a second time. From the ashes of his angel's death he came. He came like the Angel of Death he was and avenged his family's murder. That day the galaxy knew fear.

That day the galaxy knew pain...

  


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

  


He awoke in a hospital room. _Can't even manage to die properly._ The memories burned his senses. He was afraid. Afraid that his Master knew. Afraid that killing Obi-Wan on the now lost Death Star was not enough to protect his son. Afraid that he destroyed the last of his angel's memory.

  


  


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